


sadder, badder, cooler

by thefudge



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: (based on S5 spoilers), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Jughead is a drama queen, Married Couple, Power Couple, School Reunion, ost: tove lo - sadder badder cooler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26253697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: AU. Just who is Veronica's mysterious new husband? (based on season 5 spoilers)
Relationships: Jughead Jones/Veronica Lodge
Comments: 25
Kudos: 260





	sadder, badder, cooler

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if this title is ridiculous but i LOVE this song and i've always wanted to name a fic after it. and this turned out to be a good fit, imo (there's one scene in particular). anyway, hope you enjoy!

“But who is this mystery husband, Vee? Is he someone famous? Are we not supposed to know?” Betty giggles.

Veronica smiles indulgently. They’ve both had one too many glasses of punch and she doesn’t want to correct her friend’s impression, but she also doesn’t wish to change it completely. In a small way, her husband _is_ famous, even though, so far, he’s only published two books.

“Nothing so glamorous. His name is Seymour and he’s working on a PhD,” she tells him with a roll of her eyes. “He also teaches some classes at Barnard. I’m frankly embarrassed.”

Betty knows she’s only joking. Veronica can’t hide the soft glow of pride in her eyes. Certainly, he doesn’t sound like someone the old Veronica would have chosen, but then again, maybe the old Veronica hadn’t been such an open book. For instance, no one would have suspected she would go on to work in publishing. Whenever people express surprise at that she likes to remind them that she works in the marketing division, though she’s still a consummate reader.

“Is that how you two met?” Betty asks her a beat later. “Through publishing?”

“Sort of,” Veronica hedges. “We, uhh, met at a launching party for an in-house author, and I found out my publishing house had just bought his first book. By the end of the night, we somehow agreed I’d work on the marketing.”

“That’s such a literary meet-cute,” Betty fawns. “I’m so jealous.”

Veronica winces. It wasn’t so “cute”, as she recalls. They had spent most of the night arguing about the decline in recent publications and her total annoyance with the subject of his book: a serial killer terrorizing a small town.

 _Really? That old tune?_ she had scathingly remarked, because she couldn’t believe he’d dredge up something so puerile from their past. But he had been very adamant that he was doing something _different_ with it, whatever that meant. She still wasn’t at all convinced, which is why they ended up making a bet that she’d like it if she worked on it. His book, that is.

Looking back on it, he had clearly and cleverly manipulated her into the job.

She smiles at the memory.

And then the smile falters. Yes, Betty might be “jealous” if she knew the truth.

But it’s been ten years. No one cares about high school anymore, do they?

Well, she’s currently attending a high school reunion in Riverdale, so perhaps she still cares a little. But her friends have moved on to different things. Betty is here with Archie. They have two kids together and they’re happily married. Why would they care who _she’s_ married to? And yet, she hasn’t told them the truth. She’s still careful around them, even though, as she recalls with a pang, they weren’t very careful around her.

Archie joins them a moment later, as if summoned by her thoughts.

“Okay, fess up, Ronnie. Is he in jail? Is that why he couldn’t come?”

The interrogation catches her unawares. Her lips part.

Archie looks guileless, eyebrows raised in mirth, big, puppy-dog grin. Some things stay the same. And she realizes what the joke is. Right. Jail. Because her father and mother and really, most of her associates, have all had a brush with the law. Archie included.

And if she has to get technical about it, her husband has too.

She laughs. “I wish. No, he’s probably lying in bed with three-day-old pasta.”

Archie and Betty exchange amused glances. How does Veronica put up with a guy like that?

How, indeed.

She suddenly wants to talk about something or someone else. She feels rotten for not telling them. So, she asks them about the kids and Alice and F.P. and their whole extended family.

Half an hour later, they’re still talking about little Fred’s adventures with a garden hose and a very wet Labrador when the gym doors part for a late comer.

It’s Betty who sees him first.

“Holy shit. It’s – it’s Jughead.”

The expletive shocks Veronica more than the news. Betty unconsciously runs a nervous hand through her loose hair, as if to raise it up in a ponytail.

“I can’t believe it’s him,” Archie says, stunned.

Veronica swallows a sigh and turns around.

Yeah, it’s him all right.

He’s a far cry from the angsty kid who slept in trailer parks. For one, he’s wearing the suit she bought for him, the one that makes him look like he actually consulted a mirror before he left the house.

He looks - she hates to admit it - _good_. But there’s still that vagrant quality to him, that drifter charm, and she’s often surprised that only she can still see it. 

He stops to chat with Kevin and his boyfriend and they both gawk at him as if he were a Martian.

Veronica rolls her eyes.

 _Of course._ Of course he had to pull this little stunt. She should’ve never bought it when he said he wasn’t coming.

“He’s coming over,” Betty says urgently, feeling herself flush.

Veronica feels bad for her. Maybe – maybe he’ll play it cool. Maybe he’ll ease the gang into it. Maybe he won’t be a total shit.

And then Jughead strolls confidently towards them and pulls the fringe out of his eyes and Veronica’s heart jumps in her throat, the same way it did that night in Washington Square when they said goodbye and he walked a few paces away from her and then turned around and bridged the distance between them so fast and so angry that her feet almost skidded when he grabbed her face and kissed her. He was always rather angry, but rarely that bold. But that night, something must’ve come to a head, something must’ve burst. All those pent-up feelings they tried to deny.

She only has the time to mouth a very vexed _don’t_ before his hands are on her, just like before, just like always, and his mouth is on hers, spearmint and chocolate on his tongue.

He kisses her in front of everyone, possessive and reckless and really fucking _stupid_.

Veronica can hear a pin drop. Everyone stares at them.

When they part, she feels a little lightheaded. He always makes her feel like everyone else in the world has died and they’re the only people left, which is fittingly morbid for him.

But she recovers quickly. And glares at him.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” she hisses under her breath.

“Changed my mind,” he says with a fiendish smile, placing an arm around her shoulders. He turns to Archie and Betty, who both look as if they’ve been shot.

“Sorry I’m late. Has my wife been telling all the good stories?”

Their friends have a hard time reconciling their image of perennially hungry, patched-up plaid and moth-eaten-beanie Jughead Jones with the image of bohemian and stylish Seymour Glass, successful author of two well-received books and husband of Veronica Lodge. Veronica wants to tell them that “Seymour Glass” is just an affectation, a character from a Salinger book, and that Jughead just wanted to leave his past behind. She wants to tell them that they kept the whole thing under wraps because it was really unexpected for them too, and they did not want to jinx it, since they're really good at self-sabotaging. They might have been selfish, yes, but for once, this thing was _theirs_ and it mattered.

But all of this is too intimate to share. How can she tell them how afraid and elated she felt the first time he kissed her on top of the kitchen counter of their first home? How can she convey to them the strange feeling of finally being _safe_ when they lay reading in bed together and he put his head on her belly and propped the book against her thighs? How can she describe that stupid time she snuck into one of his classes to watch him teach, and he was so happy to see her that he lost his whole train of thought? Or that time at the cocktail party when she ran into people from Spence and he did not leave her side until they were gone? 

How can she reveal these tiny things that mean everything?

So, she stops trying.

She hopes her old friends will adjust to the new reality. Or perhaps an old reality – what had always been there, deep down.

She leans into her husband’s solid embrace and smiles a shy smile, and says _yes, we’ve been married for four years and no one knew._

On the train on their way home she does take the time to reprimand him.

Jughead nuzzles her ear. “Okay fine, it was petty. But you have to admit it also felt good.”

“No, it didn’t,” she lies.

“Not even a little?”

“As long as you weren’t trying to prove anything,” she drawls, shoving him away slightly.

“Only to you. You know that.”

Veronica looks at him.

Yes, she knows. The reason why he kept writing, why he kept showing up at her office, why he made a show of getting his act together and then actually _did_ was to prove to her that he was worth it. And she told him once, _you don’t have to do that, you’re enough for me_ , but Jughead liked it. He thrived with her because she did not demand anything of him, but it was expected of him. Being with Veronica Lodge, having her love elevated you. He wasn’t about to let her down.

He was her husband, after all, and very proud of it. Was it a crime that he wanted to show it?

She gives a rueful sigh and lets him pull her back into his arms.

“What are you going to do for the twenty-year reunion? Show up in your birthday suit?”

Jughead chuckles. He kisses the top of her head and his mouth lingers. “Let’s try it out at home, first. What do you say?”

Veronica smiles, relishing the thought. “Sounds like a plan.”


End file.
